Warrior's Curse (Imnada Brotherhood) by Alexa Egan

Author:Alexa Egan [Egan, Alexa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2014-04-28T21:00:00+00:00

10

MARNWOOD, DEVONSHIRE

Lips, warm, soft, and teasingly skillful, roused him from a nightmare of howling storms and billowing black seas. A gaze, golden as the sunrise, lit with pleasure as he opened his eyes, blinking up at his visitor in shock. And a stench like maggoty rancid meat mixed with Limburger cheese nearly had him retching in a corner.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Her smile held bold amusement and more than a little mischief as she wafted the draught beneath his nose. “You’ve nearly slept the day away.”

His heart lurched in his chest while his stomach turned ominously. Not the woman he’d been expecting. Not even close. He pushed himself up on the pillows, muscles groaning with stiffness, and his head foggy with more than exhaustion. “Where’s Meeryn?”

He glanced around at the sparse whitewashed chamber as if she might be hiding behind a piece of furniture, except that there was no furniture, other than a bed, a chair, a battered washstand. A servant’s garret rather than the royal suite. Rain drummed against the window, throwing blurry patterns across the walls. No surprise. It had been raining almost nonstop since they left the coast.

A hand on her hip, Lady Delia faced him down. “I should be insulted that the first sentence out of your mouth is a question about another woman.” She huffed dramatically. “But if you must know, your exalted N’thuil is perfectly safe. Arrived in company this morning with everyone’s favorite overbearing faery . . . and two dead bodies. Ugh!” She shuddered.

“Two dead . . .? Do you mean . . .”

“Don’t ask. If it were me, I’d have left them to rot, but Miss Munro seems to think they deserve better.” She placed the cup on the washstand. Drew a silver-bladed knife from a pocket in her apron and laid it beside the cup. “You’re fortunate we had the needed supplies in stores. All but for . . . you know.” She wrinkled her nose.

“All too well.” Gritting his teeth, he drew back the quilt, sat up, and put his feet on the floor. The room wobbled, and blue and silver flames licked at the edges of his vision. His skin crawled as if stretched too tight over his bones and the beast sank its razor beak into his brain, talons raking his lungs until it hurt to breathe. It was later in the afternoon than he thought.

“There was barely enough for a day’s dose . . . perhaps two if you’re cautious,” Lady Delia explained.

“That will see me through until I return to London.”

“Is that your plan? I thought resurrection lay in Cornwall.”

“I brought it with me.”

He stood, pausing as the room settled, then padded across the floor to the washstand. Delia followed his every move with arched brows and an appraising stare as if comparing the lover he’d been with the wreck of a man he’d become. Not that he cared overmuch what she saw or what she surmised. Their time together had been brief, both of them fully aware it was an arrangement built on expediency and loneliness.

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